Skin as Cold as Ice
by Canute
Summary: A huntsman is sent by an embittered queen to find and capture a sorceress who had kidnapped her son. Instead, Thor finds Loki. A crossover with SWATH and Tangled.
1. part i

a/n: ahahaha...hi...

so this is me, trying to juggle two multi-chapter fics at the same time. unlike TFTOS, this one probably won't last any longer than maybe five parts or so, but we'll see. updates might come a bit slower than usual, since most of my attention is currently on my other fic. But I will persevere! =3=;;

this was inspired by all of the lovely Snow White and the Huntsman, as well as Tangled, crossovers on tumblr. oh, and Jotun Loki.

-unedited and written at three in the morning. mistakes, which are certainly inevitable, are all my fault. Dx

* * *

part i.

Once upon a time, there was a kingdom wherein a King and his fair Queen lived. The King was one loved by many, but the same could not be said for his wife. Cold, vain, and greedy, she was the opposite of her husband in every way imaginable and resented by nearly every villager in the kingdom. But despite that, she loved her husband very dearly.

It was expected of her to procure an heir for the throne. The thought of having a child did not please the Queen, but it made the King always so delighted whenever he spoke of the possibility of a son or a daughter to care for. Wanting to see her husband happy, the Queen pushed aside her own displeasure, and each year they tried for a child. Each year, they were met with disappointment.

Word of their failed attempts to procure an heir spread through the kingdom quickly and, as they hated her so, the villagers began to talk of the Queen being no good. _Useless_, she would sometimes hear in their hushed whispers as she walked through the market, it would do the kingdom good if the King were to replace her with another, someone who is kinder, who is gentler, who is fertile and able to birth a successor of the throne.

For fifteen years this went on, and as time passed, the Queen became increasingly frustrated - not only at herself, but at the villagers for daring to speak of her in such a way. But as much as she tried to brush off their words, they still clawed at her mind, at her heart, and eventually reached a point where sometimes, she would catch her husband staring at her, and she would think, Perhaps he has begun to consider replacing me.

She and her pride could not have that. Another year passed, and still they had no child. The Queen was beginning to turn desperate.

It just so happened that a sorceress was passing through their kingdom - or, at least, that was what she called herself. Others referred to her as more unkindly names: witch, trickster, fraud, fake. One day, as the Queen was taking her regular stroll through the countryside, she was approached by the strange woman who claimed that she had the answer to her problems.

"I hear that you are having difficulty conceiving a child," rasped the stranger, and immediately the Queen's interest was piqued.

She would be able to give her one, the sorceress said. She knew of a spell and would be willing to cast it - in return, she wanted to be the one to assist the birth of the child. The spell could have had side effects, she explained, and she wanted to make sure that the child was born safely.

The Queen, so caught up in her desperation, did not hesitate and agreed to the terms. She missed the triumphant smile that crossed the sorceress's face.

The spell was cast, and a month later, it was announced that the Queen was indeed with child.

Elated, the King ordered a celebration, and for a whole week, the kingdom rejoiced.

In the months of her pregnancy, the Queen's feelings toward her unborn child changed. When she felt the first kicks, her heart soared - and that was when she began to look forward to the day when she could finally hold her baby.

Eight months later, she went into labor. As per requested, it was only her and the sorceress in the room, and the sorceress was the one to bring the baby into the world.

"It is a boy," crooned the woman, stroking the crying child's damp cheeks.

"Let me hold him," said the Queen as she laid back in her sheets, weary but smiling. "Let me hold my son."

But when he was wrapped in a bundle and finally handed to her, she was horrified to find that his skin was a deep shade of blue and his eyes were a stark shade of red.

The smile immediately fell from her face. "What is wrong with him?" She touched a blue cheek, only to recoil as pain immediately shot up her hand. She pushed the baby back into the other woman's arms, eyes wide. "Where is my son?"

"That is your son, my dear Queen," replied the sorceress, and she did not try to hide her smile.

"That is not my son!" the Queen cried. "You have taken my son and replaced him with that...that _monster_!"

"You wanted a child, and so a child I gave you," said the sorceress quite calmly. "This is your son."

"Liar!" shrilled the Queen, jabbing a finger wildly at the woman. "Witch! _Thief!_"

It wasn't long before her cries were heard by the guards, and they burst into the room with their swords drawn. But they were too late, for the room was now empty save for the Queen, who sat among blood-stained sheets, wailing into her hands. The window was ajar, and the sorceress and the child were gone.

The Queen told her husband that the sorceress had kidnapped their child and disappeared into the night. Outraged, the King sent the guards to scour the whole kingdom, looking for the deceitful woman, but after weeks of fruitless searches, all attempts were eventually dropped.

The kingdom despaired for the lost child. The Queen never told anyone that it had been a monster she had given birth to, and that it was for the greater good that _it_ had been taken away.

The King and the Queen did try again for another child, but none ever came. During a particularly harsh winter, an illness overtook the King, one that, no matter how many healers came and went, could not be cured.

And eventually, still stricken by the grief of his lost son, the King passed away, and the Queen was left to rule the kingdom.

During the day, she was a heartless, embittered ruler who was not afraid to execute anyone who dared rise against her. During the night, she tossed and turned in nightmares of her dead husband and monster of a child.

The once healthy, prosperous, jovial status of the kingdom regressed.

But meanwhile, past the dark forests and hidden in a secluded valley, the sorceress raised the child as her own. "Your name will be Loki," she whispered to the infant in her arms, and caressed his small fingers as the blue from his skin faded and turned into a regular skin tone.

Years passed, and Loki grew to be a lean, mild-mannered young man, with the sharp green eyes of his father and hair the silky black of his mother - two facts that only the sorceress knew and kept to herself.

Loki spent most of his days reading and learning magic from his mother. A quick learner, it wasn't long before he had mastered how to control fire and water, as well as several spells that he could use to defend himself if needed.

When he turned sixteen, his "mother" told him of his most unique trait: how his skin had the ability to turn blue and then his simple touch could send a person to their death. She taught him how to control this, of course, but also told him that because of this, he could not venture out anything further past their little valley.

"You do not want to hurt anyone, do you, child?" the mother inquired softly as she stroked his dark strands of hair.

"Never!" answered the boy solemnly.

"Then promise me that you will never, _ever_ leave our home without my permission."

Green eyes, bright and intelligent, stared at her from the mirror. "I promise, Mother."

But, you see, fate had a different plan.

Each year, after the fall's harvest, there would be a time when the sorceress left for the market in order to sell their crops. "I will be back in three days' time, my dear," she said with a smile, stroking his hair. "I trust that you will behave in my absence?"

"Of course I will, Mother," replied Loki with a small chuckle.

"Good." She kissed his forehead affectionately. "I must leave early in the morning - would you mind helping me pack for the travel?" she requested, one which Loki went to comply to.

At the same time, the Queen finally decided to act on her hatred. There had been rumors and sightings of the sorceress, claiming that she was living just on the other side of the mountains. The Queen ordered her finest men to search for her, but none could get past the expanse of the dark woods surrounding their kingdom.

As it happened to be, there was a huntsman. Said to be a drunkard and a brute, but also as one who had crossed the dark forest many times, the Queen deigned to seek his help.

"Find and bring me that wretch," she said to him as she sat high atop her throne. "Preferably alive, so that I may see to her death myself." Her tone softened somewhat as she moved on to the second part of her offer. "Do this, huntsman, and you will be rewarded."

A sack of coins was tossed to the ragged man's feet.

The Queen met his gaze evenly, and continued, "Greatly so."

Thor contemplated this, but it did not take him long to decide. He kicked the bag back towards the throne and turned, intending to go back to prepare. He glanced over his shoulder and told the Queen, "I will collect my reward once I have returned."

The next morning, he would set off for the forest, at the same time the sorceress would leave Loki for the market.


	2. part ii

a/n: sorry it took this long, guys. ;-;  
/yet to be edited; any and all mistakes are mine!

* * *

part ii.

**his seventeenth birthday.**

_Bright green eyes followed every movement of his mother, watching her pack with the apt attention of a child. "Is there something you want to ask, Loki?" his mother suddenly queried, and Loki's face went flush when he realized he was caught._

_"I don't know what you're talking about, Mother," he replied innocuously._

_"I have looked after you since you were but a babe." She finished packing the last of the fruit, finally filling the satchel for her travel. "I know when you have something on the tip of your tongue, child." She tapped his nose, smiling fondly.  
_

_"I'd like to go to the market with you!" Loki blurted. No sooner than the last word left his mouth, he bit down on his lip harshly, instantly regretting them.  
_

_But his mother only laughed. "A fine jest!" She shook her head, still smiling, and picked up her satchel. When she left the small kitchen to fetch her cloak, Loki trailed behind.  
_

_"I don't jest, Mother," he said. Loki was never the type to give up so easily, but he would admit that his confidence had waned, and his voice was considerably softer. "I want to come with you to the village."  
_

_His mother was fixing her hair in front of the mirror. When she spoke, her tone was calm, but Loki noticed the subtle way her jaw clenched, her smile faltered. "You know why I can't let you do that, child," she admonished, much like she used to when Loki was younger.  
_

_"But I'm no longer a child, Mother." Loki lingered by her side, wringing his fingers in a bad habit of anxiety. "I turn seventeen today."  
_

_"Please, Loki." She sighed, perhaps a little too exaggeratedly, and put a hand to her chest. "I have a day's worth of travel ahead of me. Do you really want to tire me out already?"  
_

_That snatched whatever of his confidence he had left. Loki's shoulders slumped and he answered dutifully, "Of course not."  
_

_His mother drew him to her side, her bony hand resting on his hip. She pressed a kiss into his hair. "That's a good boy." It was almost silly to say, considering that Loki had grown taller than her and it seemed like she was becoming steadily frailer. "I love you."  
_

_Loki swallowed back disappointment and instead smiled. "I love you more."  
_

_Not one to be outdone, his mother replied: "I love you most."  
_

* * *

**the present.**

"Do you think she'll finally let me go this year?"

Loki ran his gloved fingers through a gray mane, gently combing out bits of dirt and hay. His mother would have a fit if she knew that he was getting himself dirtied, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Besides, Loki was tiring of washing his hands after every little chore he did.

Sleipnir whinnied under his touch, and although Loki wasn't sure whether he was agreeing, he liked to think so.

"I'm eighteen now. Surely she will deem me capable." Loki rifled through his pouch, producing a single red apple. He offered it to the stallion, and watched with a faint smile as Sleipnir took a bite.

The stable was dark and damp, the only sources of light being a small window and the half-opened door. It was only dawn, and Loki was sure that the sun was rising somewhere behind the thick walls of clouds that covered the sky. They were gray and dark with the promises of rain, something that

"Maybe you can come, too," he continued conversationally, as if Sleipnir was indeed capable of understanding him. "I bet you miss Svadlifari when Mother takes him, don't you?" When the apple had finally disappeared, Loki dusted his hands off on his pants.

"Loki!" came a call from outside.

"Come with me?" Loki asked the stallion hopefully, a hand hovering above his saddle.

Sleipnir snorted, almost sarcastically - if horses were capable of such a thing.

"All right, all right. Wish me luck, then."

And then he turned, only to find that his mother was standing there already, hip cocked, arms crossed, curious expression on her face. Her satchel was slung over her shoulder, ever present and ever ready for her annual journey. "Talking to the animals again, Loki?"

"To _Sleipnir_," Loki corrected her glumly. "And besides, it isn't as if I have anyone else to talk to. Sometimes I fear I will die one day without ever having made a friend."

"Don't say such things," his mother said with a click of her tongue. She moved for Svadlifari's stall. "You have me."

"Of course."

Loki would have liked to say more, but found that his tongue was suddenly very heavy. He remembered what happened the year before - this time, he vowed he would not let the subject be changed so easily. "Mother," he started, furtive.

"Is there something you'd like for your birthday?" His mother didn't even turn around to look at him.

"No," Loki answered quickly. "Well, yes, I suppose. I- I wanted to ask..."

His mother glanced at him as she double-checked Svadlifari's reins. Loki trailed off as he saw her inspecting him, her eyes taking in the sight of his tunic (it was the one he wore when he knew he was going to be doing something messy); his dagger, sheathed and hanging by his waist; his riding boots.

"Loki," she said, and her voice was patient and warning at the same time.

Loki could already feel the impeding "No," and the thought made tears prick at the back of his eyes. He blinked them away; crying was not going to help prove that he was a man. "Just once-"

"No."

"But Mother-"

"I said _no._" His mother turned to fasten her satchel to Svadlifari, movements jerky. "I thought we have already discussed this, Loki. It's too dangerous."

"The _market_? There is nothing there but merchants and...and fruit!"

"And how would you know that?"

"I've read it in books."

"Ah, books." She scoffed. "What you read on paper is nothing compared to reality! There are merchants, yes. There are different sorts of them. There are those who come to buy, sell, or trade goods. But sometimes, there are also merchants who bring in a specific sort of stock: _slaves_." Her eyes gleamed with a sort of maliciousness that Loki had never seen from her before.

"Is that what you want, Loki?" she asked sharply. "Would you like to be taken away from me, to be captured and sold, to be treated like a common _whore_?"

Loki cringed, averting his gaze to the ground. Sleipnir neighed softly and nuzzled his arm, but Loki took no comfort in the gesture. "I could cast a glamor and make myself look hideous. I would stay close to you and never wander off. I would never speak to anyone without your permission." He looked to her imploringly. "I would behave, I swear it."

"I stand by my decision. You are to stay here and tend to the crops. I will return in a matter of days - I will even bring you back a birthday present. This is how it has been for years, and will _continue_ to be like this for as long as I can help it. You will never leave this valley. Do you understand?" She had mounted Svadlifari now, the reins in her hands.

When Loki didn't reply, she repeated, harsher, "_Do you understand_?"

"No, I don't!" Loki steeled himself, raising his chin in the first act of defiance he had ever put on. "I'm sure I would, if you would give me an actual reason why-"

"Because they will take you away from me, Loki!" his mother all but shrilled. "If you go out there, someone will catch your fancy, and you will become so enamored with them to the point where you'll trust them with your secret!

"You will begin to think that humans can be kind, can be selfless. And perhaps they will love you back, but the truth is this: Humans are conniving, selfish, _disgusting_ creatures, too prone to fear for their own good. Once they find out what you truly are, they will either cower in fear or _try to kill you_!

"No one will ever truly _love_ you as much as I do, Loki. I wish you hadn't forced me to tell you these things, but you must understand."

Here, her voice cracked.

"You are my child, and I love you very, very dearly. I just do not want to see you get hurt."

**. . .**

Loki felt numb.

**. . .**

After he finally stepped out of the doorway, his mother left in silence. Loki was unsure of how long he stood there, staring at the spot where she used to be, but he didn't move for a long while.

Her words echoed in his head: "_No one will ever truly love you..._"

* * *

**the village outskirts.**

Thor Odinson was an arrogant man. As a result, he had a pride whose size rivaled his muscles. The Queen had offered to provide him with weapons, a horse, even a group of soldiers to aid him; he turned them all down. Just because he was doing the Queen a favor did not mean he held any love for her.

But, of course, he was not about to march into the woods by foot. He may have been arrogant, but he was not a fool.

So he took to a particular trading post in the village outskirts. For a dingy place, it was quite well-known among travelers, and, upon his arrival, Thor was pleased to see that the hitching posts were all occupied by horses.

Someone greeted him on his way in, and Thor merely grunted in return. They were going to regret welcoming him.

Inside, he was able to buy some necessities with whatever of his money he could scrape up. (As he handed over the coins in exchange for the food, he tried to tell himself that after this job, he would have twice as much.)

His pack was full and his axes hung heavy on his belt.

He exited to take his pick between the horses.

**. . .**

In a matter of minutes, Thor was bounding over the fence post, astride a horse that he had deemed the fittest. In his wake were several people: Three guards, the trading post owner, and the poor man that had been robbed of his horse.

Not that Thor was counting the number of his pursuers. He was only counting the distance between himself and the thicket of trees that was the dark forest.

**. . .**

The huntsman worked well under pressure, but perhaps not this time. There was a little too much adrenaline, a little too much chaos, and then Thor suddenly couldn't remember his landmarks, the hidden paths. Behind him, he heard the shouts of six angry men, and that was enough to spur him on. He urged the horse on blindly.

* * *

**the valley.**

When Loki finally regain the strength to move, his first instinct was to mount Sleipnir, ride out of the valley, and then meet his mother at the market so that she would see just how capable he was.

Her reasons had been ridiculous - did she honestly think that Loki had poor judgment? Only fools signed their death contracts for the sake of love, and Loki was not, by any means, a fool.

But where would he go? As much bravado he had, what if he _did_ get captured and then sold off?

_You could kill them,_ suggested a little voice, but the thought was so horrid that Loki immediately pushed it away.

By the looks of the sky, a storm was coming, anyway. If he was to run away, he decided, he would do it in favorable weather - perhaps even tomorrow.  
_I'll even start packing today,_ he thought.

But the only thing he really did was leave the stable to tend to the crops, all the while hoping that the storm would catch up to his mother.

**. . .**

He loved his mother, he truly did, but he did not love being suffocated. As safe as he felt, Loki wanted to go out into the world and explore.

If he could not be human, shouldn't he at least be able to pretend to be one, even for just a day?

**. . .**

A habit: During these three days, when he was by himself, he liked to take the glamor off. He avoided mirrors at all costs and wore his gloves, but he liked feeling the burden being lifted off his shoulders. This way, Loki felt almost-

-normal.**  
**

**. . .**

It was evening and storming when Loki realized he forgot his books in the stable. He had taken them with him, planning to read after he finished refilling the trough, but it had begun to rain before he had the chance. Loki, who never liked being wet, had ran as quickly as he can back to the house.

It was now, two hours later, that he wanted to practice his magic and realized his spell books were in the stable.

"Are you actually considering this?" Loki muttered to himself. He drew the curtains back to peek outside, only to reel back hastily when thunder crackled. _Don't do it_, the rational side of him insisted.

But those spell books were one of the rarer ones and his mother had gone through a lot to get them for him.

And how was he repaying her? By leaving them in the stable, the one with the window whose lack of glass provided a gateway for the rain to pour in and soak those precious pages?

Momentarily forgetting his anger towards his mother, Loki pulled on his cloak and opened the door.

**. . .**

A lesson learned: It is indeed dangerous to run in the mud.

* * *

**somewhere dark and cold and generally unpleasant.**

Thor resented his situation. To be more specific, he resented the damned marshes that had taken his horse. He resented the men for being idiots and chasing after him. He resented the Queen for putting him through this. He resented the storm for making things even more complicated. But mostly, he resented himself for panicking and ending up having to hide out in this foul place.

It smelled of manure.

Thor heard a neigh that confirmed his suspicions, followed by a bang as the door was slammed open.

He pressed himself deeper into the hay and waited.

* * *

Loki, soaked to the bone, was reaching for his books (which, thankfully, didn't look too damaged) when something snaked around his waist and pulled him down. There was a thump as he fell, followed by a grunt of pain - one that didn't come from his own mouth.

Loki did not think; he closed his eyes and muttered the first spell that came to mind.

**. . .**

There were two things that were clear to him:

1) The storm was beginning to die down.

2) There was an unconscious man in his stable.

* * *

a/n: So I'm becoming really fond of this writing style? x_x

as a quick sidenote, in case anyone else is also followed my other story - I should be updating that soon, too. I apologize that updates are at a snail's pace right now, but as a freshman taking honors and AP and an extra science class and no study halls, times get busy. I don't recommend it, hah

/thank you to those who are miraculously patient with me. Seriously, thank you thank you thank you ;-;


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